a love story

November 18, 1930

One is tempted to read between the lines in many of the letters and I was tempted most with this one. Wondering what their physical relationship was seems answered to me here. But it is only my guess and so we are left coming to our own conclusions.

More and more I wish to read Philip’s (Pinchas) letters. What were his responses, his feelings, his writing?

November 18, 1930

My poor dear Boy, he suffers so, he thinks I do not know, do not understand. I understand only too well, but my lot is not an easy one either. I too suffer, the only difference is — somehow, I cannot explain why, but my heart seems full of hope, that some day, some year there will come an end to this unhumanly suffering, and strange as it may seem, it does not feel that death will do it — But on the contrary Life will bring it — Love will come out the winner, and rejoice the sacrifice we have brought — the happiness we have earned. I cannot explain how this feeling came to me. I have no clue at all, but most of the things that happen to us, we are unable to explain them. But he my poor dear Boy, he has not such a feeling or he tries to destroy it. He thinks he is a realist, but in truth he is a fine dreamer, a dreamer no less than myself. Now he wants to leave for New York with the thought of never coming back. He thinks he can forget me, oh my dear Boy, it is too late. He thinks he can go against Fate. Oh he will find out different. He cannot understand me. To him it appears that if I really loved him I would not let him leave — I would beg him to stay, cry — go even on my knees, and make him stay. That would be a very dramatic scene. But my Love is thanks to God a greater one than just a dramatic scene. I want him to be happy, no matter at what cost to me. He thinks he would be happy if I belonged to him — That would bring us happiness — He is wrong — no happiness that comes that way — stays for very long — It only helps kill the soul, and I shall not sacrifice my soul nor his (which is the greatest treasure on earth) at any cost at all. Right happiness must come the right way, and what does my poor Boy make out of it, that I do not love him enough to bring this sacrifice for him. He does not seem to see the great sacrifice we both are bringing and which will some day be repaid to us, and further more he thinks that some day when he has gone to New York I shall meet someone else, fall in Love with him, and belong to him, I shall give him what I deny to him my Boy of my dreams.

He does not know what his going away means to me, he does not know that everything ends for me, but strange enough as it may seem my hope for the future does not die. Why should I detain him — for myself? no I cannot be so selfish — He is too unhappy now — He cannot, it seems make the best of things. He wants to be what in truth he is not — a Realist, what right have I to detain him — maybe a change in everything will bring him satisfaction, maybe he shall be able to continue with his writing — is that not my dream? He must write oh God please help him…. I am willing to suffer twice my share — only give him a little happiness, oh I am sure, if he were able to go on with his writing he would find satisfaction — please help him.

It is terrible days — months without seeing my Dream Boy — without hearing his voice which is as sweet as his soul is beautiful. Will I have the strength to go on. What a life — no looking forward to evenings when I can see him — no waiting with a beating heart for the telephone calls — nothing — just to live in the past — and dream for the future — and nothing but tears to accompany both. But I am willing — if it is thy will — Great Almighty — only see that my dear Boy is repaid in giving him something in Life. He thinks he can forget me — not as long as my heart will long for him — no never… It is too late my dear poor Boy — I am sorry but such is our Fate. Go if you want to. I do not send you away nor do I detain you, you must choose — and I hope you choose well — do not think for one minute what will become of me. I shall have a home — pretty clothes — men shall continue to compliment me — I shall be envied by girls — women — what else can one ask for?…. What if my heart will break? What if I die little by little of longing for you? No one will know it — no one will see it — I shall go on being the happy-go-lucky.

Do not expect to receive a letter from San Francisco, that will tell you how heart broken I am — for I assure you no one will see me so… as long as I live I’ll keep on acting with a smile. I will not have anyone pity me. NO. Go if you must and take my blessings and best wishes — may you have your heart’s desire. But remember You will not forget me….

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Poem by Bassya

A package of love letters
Tied with ribbons of blue.
Some from you to me and
Some from me to you. --
Laying in a drawer
For many many years
Telling a story of hope
Joy, anguish, and despair
and many many tears. --

Links

Tales of the Shtetl

Reactions to the Letters

A.M.: I love this.
R.B.: So touching! It was good to know of the happy ending before reading the letter.
D.K.: Fascinating stuff.
R.G.: These are wonderful. What an amazing project.
D.F.: Wow, such torment.
J.J.: Wow, what a treasure to be able to glimpse into the past through these letters.
G.A.: Priceless treasure.
R.B.: These letters would make a great book.
P.M.: Oh my god! I am sitting here with tears running down my cheeks.
R.B.C.: Amazing! May love reign eternal, and inspire through generations...